employed hipster: now with 50% more hip.

Circuit breaker cover at The Mothership's house.

Unhip(ster).

Dear Online Diary,

Oh hi.  Been a while, eh?  How’ve you been?  I’ve been decent, aside from this whole living in Louisiana several thousand miles away from my hot fiancé, hot friends, and hot Belgian beer bars thing.  Yesterday was surreal; I walked around the quarter with friend Hurd and talked about how strange it will be to leave New Orleans and indeed a little piece of me got sad, but an even larger piece was like…FUCK YEAH!  It’s time to go home.

Time to go home and be an (un)employed hipster with a big girl apartment, (almost) clean sheets, and a party shower.  Time to go home and find me a jobby job and cease this never ending urge to die my hair pink – I’m so bad at being a grown up.  Eventually this whole thing is going to be uncool, eventually I’m going to be unhip and my future students are going to look at me the same way my current students look at most of their current teachers and I will be lame and I won’t even know it.  I’ll grow a teacher butt and start yelling about turning in papers late and my worksheets will become dated.  I will become jaded and start reading from a text book.  This will all get ugly.  I’ll get ugly. 

That’ll suck, the being ugly part, but at least there’s someone who will always think I’m a bit of a stunner, because she seems to think I’m cute even when I am sick and drool all over her bare shoulder in my sleep.  Life as an old fart will be strange – especially as a teacher – because I’ll be surrounded by youth and vigor and I’ll try to be young and I’ll end up a forty year old woman stuffing her fat teacher ass in LEI jeans, listening to Britney Spears long after she’s checked into a permanent funny farm.

I always wonder if my suckier coworkers know that they suck.  I wonder if they know that kids can’t stand them and think they’re crotchety old fuckers, I wonder if they know what they say about them…

And then I wonder, what do they say about me?

OMG Mimosas!

So my friends threw me a fun little champagne, dish painting, debauching, going away/shower type party.  We went to a BYOB clay center and painted a full set of dishes for the lady and I to use...here are a few highlights:
 

Crawfish Funeral.

Paraphrase o' hotness.